


Direction of the Wind, Part II

by flamethrower



Series: Re-Entry: Journey of the Whills [10]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, GFY, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:52:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamethrower/pseuds/flamethrower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"To be honest, Chancellor Valorum, I never thought I would come under literal fire while serving you.”</p><p>“I didn’t think I was worth assassinating, myself.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Direction of the Wind, Part II

Republic Date 5201: 1/11th

Jedi Temple, Coruscant

 

Obi-Wan was awake two seconds before his comm unit went off, sounding the much louder alarm that denoted subspace communication. He grabbed it from the bedside table and thumbed it on without even opening his eyes. “Kenobi,” he said, trying not to slur.

“Happy Birthday, love.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes shot open; he was suddenly wide awake. “Qui!”

“Damn, I must have gotten the time wrong. Middle of the night?” Qui-Gon asked, sounding sympathetic.

“I—no, just very early. Don’t care,” Obi-Wan said, sitting up in bed. “You’re supposed to be in hyperspace, though.”

“I convinced our ship’s crew that they needed to conduct routine maintenance on the hyperdrive,” Qui-Gon replied.

“Convinced them, huh?” Even from lightyears away, there was no missing the smug nature of his mate’s statement. “You’re a bad man.”

“I missed you, and today of all days, I wanted to hear your voice,” Qui-Gon countered.

Obi-Wan smiled, warmed by the sentiment. “And you’re bored as fuck, aren’t you?”

“Rillian is going stir-crazy, and I’m about to join her,” Qui-Gon confirmed. “But before that, there is a birthday present in our quarters, waiting for you.”

“Present?” Obi-Wan repeated, intrigued. “Do I need to go on an epic quest to find it?”

Qui-Gon chuckled. “If by ‘epic quest’ you mean ‘dig around in a drawer,’ then by all means. My side of the bed, nightstand drawer. Silver box.”

Obi-Wan rolled over and opened the drawer, then turned on the lamp so he could see what the hell he was doing. “Uh, Qui-Gon? There are _three_ silver boxes in this drawer.”

“Are there?” To his credit, even Qui-Gon sounded surprised. “Guess the box” must not have been meant to be part of the epic quest. “Touch the lids. You’ll know which one it is.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “Is it a rock?” he asked, skimming his fingertips over the top of each box.

“In a manner of speaking.”

The middle box, looking a bit worn around the edges, sent tingles of recognition up Obi-Wan’s fingers. “That must be it,” he said, lifting it from the drawer. He pried the lid off, and paused, startled.

Obi-Wan pulled out a long strand of meditation beads, strung on thin waxed cord. Each gemstone was a perfect sphere of swirled blue and green, the same way the shimmershade ink in his tattooed sleeve blended together. Touching the stones was like breathing in recognition; they were all steeped in Qui-Gon’s Force-sense.

“Oh,” he whispered.

“Do you like it?” Qui-Gon asked.

“I—yes,” Obi-Wan said, wrapping the strands around his hand multiple times. The length was perfect; each bead slid easily on the cord, gapped just enough to allow anxious fingers to move them through the loop one by one, over and over again.

The stones hadn’t been purchased this way. “You carved—”

“Every single stone,” Qui-Gon said, his voice soft.

Obi-Wan swallowed. “How long?”

“Since Yinchorr,” Qui-Gon admitted. “I wanted you to have something for when…when this was too difficult, but even utilizing the stone-shearing method you taught me, it took longer to complete than I’d thought. I had just finished the last stone before we were sent to Naboo.”

He was holding almost three years of dedication in his hand. Suddenly, it was a struggle not to cry. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you won’t shred Yoda’s grass anymore,” Qui-Gon suggested. “That was one of the bitchiest comm calls I’ve ever received.”

“No more grass shredding, no,” Obi-Wan said, laughing and wiping his eyes dry. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Qui-Gon said, his voice so rich and warm that Obi-Wan couldn’t resist reaching through the bond for him. He met shields, which was expected, as they had agreed before returning to Coruscant that it would be wisest to shield the lifebond if they were on separate assignments.

“Shields or no shields, I still felt that.” Qui-Gon seemed amused.

Obi-Wan tried not to sigh. “I suppose I’m just frustrated that I won’t be able to grant you the same favor on your birthday.”

“I refuse to be on that blasted planet for a month. I will be back before that time.”

“Thirty-two days of travel, at least,” Obi-Wan said, trying to be practical. “That gives you thirty-four days leeway, and no one expects that Tholatin will be an easy mission, even if you find Master Licia quickly.”

“Consider me spoiled, then. I had the pleasure of your company for my last birthday, and I want it for this one, too.”

“You just want birthday sex,” Obi-Wan teased.

“ _Now_ you understand,” Qui-Gon replied.

“So you’ll be bending the laws of time and space, then.” Obi-Wan laughed. “Good to know.”

“For you? Always,” Qui-Gon said in complete sincerity. “Say hello to Rillian, and then I have to go. Their unnecessary inspection is just about complete.”

There was a pause before Rillian trilled her greetings. [Hello, Master Obi-Wan! Happy Birthday!]

[Hello, Raallandirr,] Obi-Wan replied in kind. [Thank you very much.]

[It’s really weird when you speak Shyriiwook at me,] Rillian said. [You’ll have to do that for my uncles. The elder ones like to insist that no human can speak Shyriiwook without making a fool of themselves.]

“When the time comes for your _hrrtayyk_ ceremony, I’ll make them regret issuing the challenge,” Obi-Wan promised her.

[Oh, the ship’s moving. Bye, Master Obi-Wan! Here’s Master Qui-Gon back.]

“Give Anakin our greetings. I’ll see you soon, love. I promise.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “I believe you,” he said, just before the comm lost signal.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Anakin woke up, feeling groggy and out of sorts. He really did miss Rillian, even if they no longer slept in the same room. He’d gotten used to people, to farm life, to having the bright noise of his family all around him.

Oh, well. He still had Obi-Wan and R2-D2; Master-Qui-Gon and Rillian would be back soon enough.

Anakin stumbled into the living room, still yawning, and found Obi-Wan already awake, kneeling in front of the open balcony door. There was a strand of blue and green beads in his hand. “Neat,” Anakin said in approval.

Obi-Wan glanced over at him, the serenity of a long meditation still visible in his eyes. “Good morning, Padawan.”

He was an apprentice twice over, and the term still made Anakin beam. “Good morning. Where’dya get the beads?”

“Birthday gift from your other Master,” Obi-Wan explained, a soft smile appearing on his face. “He and Rillian say hello, by the way.”

Anakin raised both eyebrows. “What’d he say to get them to drop out of hyperspace?”

“It seems their ship was suddenly due to be inspected, right at that moment.”

Anakin snickered and went to go throw himself at a shower. When it was over, he felt much more like a functioning being and less like snail food, which meant that he woke up enough to realize that Obi-Wan had said “birthday” and that meant it was _today._

It wasn’t that he forgot what date it was, not really; more like he didn’t snap awake right away unless he had to. Anakin dressed in one of his Kaazcint shirts and a pair of sturdy trousers, grabbed his own gift for his Master, and went to the kitchen.

Obi-Wan accepted the tin with a wide grin. “Tea!”

Anakin shrugged, ducking his head, a little embarrassed by Obi-Wan’s blatant pleasure in his simple gift. “I couldn’t think of anything else, so I went for practical.”

“Not a damn thing wrong with practicality,” Obi-Wan said, prying open the lid and inhaling. “Oh, that’s a good blend,” he said, and then studied the label. “More caffeine than caff. I love it already.”

“High caffeine content?” That made Anakin feel better. He wasn’t the great tea connoisseur that Obi-Wan and Master Qui-Gon were, so he shopped by smell.

“Let’s try it out,” Obi-Wan said, and programmed their kettle to boil water.

The tea brewed up a deep, dark green, and was strong enough to make Anakin feel like he’d just been punched in the throat. “Whoa,” he said, staring down at his tea mug in surprise.

“I think you found us the caff replacement we’ve been hunting for,” Obi-Wan said, looking a bit wide-eyed himself. “Ready for Confirmation?”

“What?” Anakin narrowed his eyes. “Why do _I_ have to go?”

Obi-Wan smiled. “You’re my Padawan, and I have no intention of suffering alone.”

“You suck,” Anakin declared, and went back to sipping his throat-punching tea. “Hey. Wait. I don’t remember us having to do the Senate Confirmation thing the last time.”

“We were too damn busy,” Obi-Wan said, and then looked a bit sad. “Besides, do you remember the high Council turnover rate, those last two years?”

Anakin dropped his gaze. “Yeah. I guess there wasn’t much point to a Senate Confirmation, not if you were probably going to wind up dead in a few months.”

“Hey, I lasted two and a half years, officially,” Obi-Wan retorted.

“True,” Anakin said. “Hey, I was a Councilor for a whole three days. Is that a record?”

“I…honestly don’t know,” Obi-Wans said, thinking it over. “I imagine that somewhere in the records, there is a tale of some Jedi Master who managed to become a Councilor and die on the same day.”

“Okay, Rillian and Qui-Gon have to come back soon,” Anakin decided, giving his Master a frank look. “We are _depressing_ on our own.”

“Well, I can do something about that,” Obi-Wan said, and put down his mug. “Do you remember that I told you that your tenth birthday present was back at the Temple, thus my inability to give it to you then?”

“Yeah,” Anakin said, curious. “You said that about my eleventh birthday present, too. You’re so totally two years behind at this point.”

“Number eleven isn’t here yet. It was…delayed.” The expression on Obi-Wan’s face suggested that there was fire involved in the delay. Probably not a good sign, though it depended on the actual present. “The first present, though, I do have, but I forgot to give it to you before now. The surprise of moving and…” he waved his hand around.

“Traveling, moving, promotions, graduation, missions, Council stuff, etcetera?” Anakin finished. “You mean like usual.”

Obi-Wan smiled and disappeared into the bedroom he shared with Master Qui-Gon. He came out a moment later, his fist closed around something small. “Hands out,” he instructed.

Anakin obliged; Obi-Wan placed a black shard of rock into his cupped hands. The stone was warm, and had a sparkling, red-gold core.

“Wow,” Anakin breathed, letting the feel of the stone flood his senses. “You got me my own riverstone.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No. I gave you a part of mine.”

Anakin stared up at him in surprise. “You—you _split_ it?” he blurted, amazed. He knew the story of Obi-Wan’s riverstone like he knew his own lightsaber. He’d loved that story as a child—both childhoods, actually. Interwoven in that tale had always been Obi-Wan’s fondness for the stone, an object that might have actually saved his life.

“It didn’t hurt it,” Obi-Wan said, laying one of his fingers on the riverstone Anakin held. The core of it pulsed brighter at his touch. “How could it? If it could be destroyed so easily, Qui-Gon would never have dared take it from the riverbed it came from.”

“It’s just…I mean, you’re really—” Anakin sucked in a breath, feeling embarrassing tears burn at his eyes. He had been allowed to touch the stone all he liked during his first apprenticeship, but it had always been clear that the rock belonged to his Master.

Obi-Wan cupped Anakin’s hands with his own, gently forcing Anakin to wrap his fingers around the stone. “You are my Padawan, Ani. Not only that, you are my friend and my brother. How could I not share this with you?”

“Thank you,” Anakin said, and sniffed back his tears. “Can we both pretend I was suitably formal and stuff, and didn’t cry because you gave me a rock?”

Obi-Wan grinned at him and then ruffled his hair before Anakin could duck away. “I saw nothing. Go on; I have some work this morning, anyway.”

Anakin still didn’t have a university schedule, and with no regular classes on the horizon, he spent a happy morning reviewing the mouse droids’ monitoring system, tweaking and updating blueprints. They were working really well, and he thought Master Mace would be impressed, even if he put on an irritated face.

He didn’t have a set of formal tunics in a new size yet, so Anakin got dressed in the clothes he’d worn for his Masters’ wedding, tugging everything into place. His leggings were already too short, but as long as they were tucked into his boots, it didn’t matter.

 _Again?_ Obi-Wan asked, catching the thought.

 _Every six months, on average,_ Anakin sent back, amused and kind of glad that he was still growing on schedule. With all of the crap floating around in his head, it was a wonder his body didn’t revolt and decide to be short forever.

Obi-Wan was wearing the black tunics and leggings from his wedding, but not the green. Anakin was glad; he thought the green was personal, and the Senate didn’t deserve that sort of look at his Master.

Obi-Wan flashed him a grateful smile, wrapping a black sash around the rust-brown tabards that he was using instead. “Today I have come to the realization that I really need clothes,” he said. “I hadn’t planned to wear any of the wedding garb, but my old formal set doesn’t fit. Since you’re sprouting again, would you like to go see Oma tomorrow?”

“Sure!” Anakin said with immediate enthusiasm. He liked big Oma, the Besalisk who’d made friends with his mother during their first year on Coruscant. “Mom can’t find her red fabric on Kaazcint, so I told her I’d see if Oma had it again, anyway.”

When Obi-Wan had dressed, standing in their quarters with boots on and cloak draped over his arm, Anakin thought he looked every inch the Jedi Master. He also looked older, wearing the black, an effect that Anakin suspected his Master was very much aware of. “Is that why you didn’t shave?”

“Huh?” Obi-Wan rubbed his face with his free hand. It wasn’t quite a beard, but it was not new bristle, either. “Oh, no, not at all. This is just laziness.”

The lightsaber hanging from his Master’s belt was not one that Anakin recognized. “Who’d you borrow from?” he asked. He thought it was weird that Obi-Wan had sent his lightsaber with Master Qui-Gon, but he wasn’t going to argue with something that would enable Rillian to practice against her Master during their long journey. Anakin wanted Rillian to get better, to be a skilled, fierce Wookiee Jedi—he wanted this with an intensity that bordered on paranoia. He just couldn’t figure out if it was some low-grade Force impulse, or his own fears speaking.

Obi-Wan’s fingers touched the hilt, as if reconfirming the blade was at his side. “I was going to build a secondary, since you like to keep your Jar’Kai up to date almost as much as Rillian likes to learn it. Kimal, however, insisted that I borrow his, instead.”

“What, you mean like in Concordance?” Anakin felt his eyes widen. “That’s wizard.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Kimal won’t let me call it that. He insists it’s just good sense, and a chance for his lightsaber to see practical use outside of lab demonstrations.”

Anakin frowned. “Practical use, huh? He seems awfully certain that his lightsaber is gonna see combat time.”

“Well, it _is_ us,” Obi-Wan pointed out.

Anakin followed Obi-Wan to the Grand Stair, where they met Mace Windu. Anakin was not the only Padawan being sucked into politics; Tuuvino was present, bright-eyed and excited about going to the Senate Dome.

“Aren’t you thrilled, Anakin?” Tuuvino asked him, as they walked behind their respective Masters.

Anakin thought about it. “Not really, no,” he said. Maybe he was smarter, this time around, but he wasn’t really interested in politics beyond what he needed to know as a Jedi. Anakin was going into that arena with his _poodoo_ meter running on high. “Master Mace, haven’t you introduced him to any real politicians yet?”

Mace glanced back at them, a faint smile on his face. “No. His year has been relatively free of diplomatic entanglements. This will be Tuuvino’s first foray into Galactic politics.”

“Man, you are _lucky,_ ” Anakin said to Tuuvino, who looked baffled.

Adi Gallia joined them, with Padawan Tachi in tow. Siri was wearing pale, sage-green tunics and pale brown tabards, in subtle mimicry of her Master.

 _Huh,_ Anakin thought, and glanced down at himself, then at his Master, Mace, and Tuuvino. Tuuvino dressed almost exactly like Mace did, though he had no hope of matching Mace’s somber expression. _Did we all decide to become bookends, today?_

He felt Obi-Wan’s amusement. _At least the Senate will know which Padawan belongs to which Master._

“Master Yoda is hiding somewhere, isn’t he?” Siri was asking Mace.

“If by hiding, you mean staying in the crèche, then he’s hiding very well,” Mace replied. “It will just be us, today.”

“Huh. Master Mundi had more of an escort than this,” Siri said.

“That’s because Ki-Adi was not yet famous,” Adi said. She glanced back to grin at Obi-Wan, who made a disgruntled face and refused to comment.

They arrived in the basement antechamber, being funneled through the line of Senate guards who were more or less discreet about waving weapons detectors at them. Tuuvino squeaked and went mute when it came time to greet the Supreme Chancellor and the Vice Chair, Mas Amedda.

Anakin smiled and shook Valorum’s hand. He liked the man, especially when he’d decided to plot with them against Palpatine on nothing stronger than Obi-Wan’s word. As far as Anakin was concerned, that made Valorum an _excellent_ Chancellor.

Mas Amedda, on the other hand, he wasn’t so certain about. The Chagrian had a reputation for adhering to procedure, even when it didn’t make sense. If Amedda had been on Naboo, it would have been a disaster.

“My friend,” Valorum greeted Obi-Wan, smiling. “It seems you’re to join us on the political field of battle.”

“I must have no sense at all,” Obi-Wan replied. “What shall we expect today, Finis?”

Anakin hid a grin as Amedda twitched at the familiar use of the Chancellor’s name.

“I shall leave those instructions to Vice Chair Amedda,” Valorum said, waving the other man forward. “If you please.”

Mas Amedda assessed them all with his sharp gaze, his eyes lingering on Obi-Wan the longest. Anakin resisted the urge to bristle.

“Masters Jedi, Padawans,” Amedda greeted them. “Today will bring you nothing more taxing than a brief nod of acknowledgement when I, or the Supreme Chancellor, state your name. Following the speech of Confirmation, young Master Kenobi, there will be a small banquet in the grand hall, to allow for…informal questioning.”

“Ah, the inquisition,” Obi-Wan muttered, and then glanced at Valorum. “Anyone in particular I should be on the alert for?”

Valorum nodded. “I do believe Senator Tikkes is looking forward to remaking your acquaintance.”

Obi-Wan grinned, an expression so unexpectedly feral that Amedda took a step back. “I’ll just bet he is.”

 _It really creeps people out when you smile like that, Master,_ Anakin sent.

 _So I should save it for Tikkes, then,_ Obi-Wan replied.

 _What is the_ deal _with Tikkes, anyway?_

 _You don’t remember._ It was not a question, but not quite a certain statement, either.

Anakin lifted his right shoulder in a quick shrug as Amedda guided them onto the Chancellor’s podium, directing everyone’s steps until he had the Jedi arranged to his satisfaction. _Not really. Wasn’t he the Quarren Senator for Dac?_

 _Oh, this is going to be fun,_ was all Obi-Wan would say in reply. Anakin sighed and wondered what he’d allowed himself to be suckered into. Also, he made a note to research Tikkes, because if Obi-Wan was going to pick a fight with a Senator, Anakin needed to be informed.

“Remember to keep your silence once we enter the dome,” Adi said, more for the benefit of himself and Tuuvino, Anakin suspected. “Anything you say out loud at that point will be broadcast through the sound system.”

“Which also means the entire HoloNet hears it,” Siri added. Tuuvino started to look like he’d swallowed a frog, and it was trying to get out.

Anakin kept forgetting how huge the Senate dome was. As the Chancellor’s podium rose, Anakin took a deep breath and forgot to let it out again.

 _Sweet Force, there’s thousands of_ people, Tuuvino broadcast the agitated thought loud enough for everyone to hear.

 _Sure are, kiddo!_ Siri said, giving the young Zabrak a reassuring smile.

Anakin looked up and noticed that Obi-Wan had skipped the Master face and gone right into General mode, his eyes flickering around to take in each Senate pod in turn. If Obi-Wan wanted to make sure that people took him seriously, that was a good way to start.

The Chancellor waited until the polite, welcoming applause died down, and then began the process of introducing the purpose of the current session. Anakin drifted through the necessary speeches, lifting his hand and waving in greeting when his name was mentioned. Okay, yeah, he could do the political thing again. Most of the habits Obi-Wan had drilled into him were still there. Anakin could probably do Senate functions on auto-pilot, if he needed to.

 _Not today,_ Obi-Wan reminded him. _I’d actually like to get a sense of how the winds are blowing from the Senators themselves. It’s hard to parse it from ’Net articles._

 _Okay,_ Anakin agreed, not bothered. He liked talking to people, even if they were politicians. Some of their best friends were politicians, thus proving his old point that they weren’t all bad.

A warning tingle raced up Anakin’s spine and settled into his shoulders with a sharp nudge, shocking enough to make Anakin bite back a gasp. Then things happened very fast.

Obi-Wan reached down, plucked Kimal’s lightsaber free of his belt, had it ignited and in front of the Chancellor as a blaster bolt came from somewhere high and distant. Master Mace mirrored the defense, so there were two lines of protection across Valorum. The bolt was deflected straight up, away from all the pods.

Anakin reached out, snagged Valorum’s robes, and pulled Valorum down to the floor of the podium, out of line of sight. The moment his knees were on the floor, more blaster bolts went sizzling overhead.

Mas Amedda shrieked and fell back, a smoking pit in the left arm of his robes. Adi grabbed the Vice Chair and got him onto the floor, where Tuuvino was already crouched, wide-eyed but not panicking.

Siri slammed the controls with her free hand, cutting off the HoloNet feed and activating the lowering mechanism for the pod.

“Obi-Wan,” Mace said, and Obi-Wan leapt over the side of the pod. Adi exchanged a brief glance with Mace and then jumped as well, but she went up, going for the closest Senate pod and seriously freaking out the Grans.

Mace then ducked down so that Siri could activate the pod’s ray shielding, protecting them from further shots. “Chancellor, are you injured?” he asked.

“No, Mace,” Valorum replied, shaking his head. “I’m afraid that the Vice Chair is, though.”

Amedda, his face a very pale blue, was shaking his head. “I will recover. To be honest, Chancellor Valorum, I never thought I would come under literal fire while serving you.”

Valorum gave the Vice Chair a tight smile. “I didn’t think I was worth assassinating, myself.”

“Obi-Wan is going to sweep the bottom level while Adi goes up,” Mace said, getting out his comm. Anakin watched his fingers input the emergency beacon signal for the Temple, calling for backup. “When we get downside, we’re escorting the Chancellor and the Vice Chair to safety.”

“Judicial?” Siri asked.

“The entire HoloNet just witnessed that assassination attempt, Tachi. I don’t think it will be necessary to call them,” Mace said, his tone dry as dust.

Valorum looked at Anakin, a faint smile on his face. “Padawan Skywalker, thank you for your quick action. I believe I was too startled to remember the basics of ducking.”

“That’s okay, sir,” Anakin said, managing a smile of his own. Right then, he was flashing on all the times he had “rescued” Supreme Chancellor Palpatine, most (all?) of them false, and his body wanted to react, to fight, to really go home and hide because there was way too much crap in his head.

_Oh, Padawan._

_Hey, hey! Ignore my freaking out and concentrate more on not getting shot, okay, Obi-Wan?_ Anakin clenched his lightsaber in his hand as the pod ground to a halt in the sub-basement, one floor lower than the formal antechamber.

 _I can listen to you_ and _avoid getting shot_ , Obi-Wan retorted.

_Master, your track record really says otherwise._

“Vice Chair,” Siri said, helping Amedda to rise. “Can you walk?”

“Shot in the arm, not in the leg,” Amedda snapped, but then he took a step and paled further. “Ah. I understand your concern, now. Yes, I will be able to walk, but not very fast.”

“The emergency tunnel is this way,” Mace said, waving them forward.

The sub-basement was much more open than the pod; Anakin ignited his lightsaber, gesturing for Tuuvino to do the same. The younger Zabrak Padawan was still wide-eyed, even though his hands were steady. Anakin decided to keep an eye on him, leaving Mace free to deal with any trouble that came their way.

The tunnel entrance was a sealed door that required the Chancellor’s palm print and a retinal scan. Standing in front of it, blocking their way, was an assassin—a Blood Carver.

 _There’s at least two,_ he sent to his Master. Anakin didn’t think the one who’d shot from above could have gotten down here that fast.

“That’s a really big gun,” Siri said in a casual voice, looking at the rifle in question.

Mace raised his violet-bladed lightsaber. “My friend, I would advise you to clear the way.”

The Blood Carver laughed at him. “I don’t need move, _jeedai._ I only wait for my nestmate to join, and then you surrounded!”

“Your nestmate is already in Judicial custody.”

Anakin half-turned his head, watching as Adi Gallia joined them. Her headdress was askew, and there were three parallel cuts on her cheek, a match to a Blood Carver’s claws.

“You lie,” the Blood Carver hissed.

Anakin felt his Master’s intent, and started to grin. A moment later, the ceiling panel above the Blood Carver fell on top of the assassin’s head, with Obi-Wan riding it down. The assassin shrieked and collapsed under the sudden weight; Mace deflected the single bolt it managed to fire.

Obi-Wan stepped off of the panel, wiping dirt from his face. “There are three more. You should go.”

“Could the escape tunnel be a trap?” Adi asked, dabbing her cheek with the hem of her robe.

“I don’t sense that, but…” Obi-Wan hesitated. “I’ll be fine here. Go with them.”

Adi nodded and stepped into the tunnel once Valorum had the door open. Anakin looked up at his Master. “I’ll stay with you.”

“Not this time, Ani,” Obi-Wan said, picking up the Blood Carver’s really big rifle and disabling it by snapping off the power supply.

“But I—” Anakin started to protest, and then slammed his jaw shut so hard his teeth cracked together. No. That was not the way.

No bad habits. They’d both promised.

“Okay, I won’t stay out here. But I _will_ stay just inside the door, so I can let you in when it’s clear. Deal?”

Obi-Wan smiled at him; Anakin could feel a brief rush of pride coming from his Master. “Deal. Go!” he said, and darted off to deal with the remaining assassins.

Anakin waited beside the sealed tunnel door, one ear cocked for sounds of fighting from the Chancellor’s escort, the other listening for his Master’s return. The Force was not nudging him in one direction or the other, so Anakin breathed in, and out, and in again, doing his best not to pace the short distance across the corridor. He did not need his lightsaber ignited for this. Did not.

Ten minutes later, he felt Obi-Wan’s presence nearby. _It’s me_ , Obi-Wan said, a touch of weariness in his voice. _All clear._

Anakin opened the door with the code Valorum had whispered to him, cracking the entry just enough for Obi-Wan to slip inside before sealing it again. “You okay?”

Obi-Wan nodded. The tabards on his right side were claw-shredded, but Anakin didn’t see any blood. “Think one of them punched me pretty good in the back. The others?”

“Nobody’s screaming, so I’d say things are okay,” Anakin said. “Let’s get down there and find out. Master Mace will want to know how many Blood Carvers you smushed, anyway.”

Anakin led the way down the escape tunnel, lit by orange emergency panels. There was a second door at the end of the tunnel, shining red to alert Judicial and the Chancellor’s security detail that the room was occupied.

“It’s us,” Anakin announced as he hit the intercom, and then rapped his lightsaber hilt against the door for good measure.

“Oh, is it?” Master Adi’s voice answered him. “Tell me, young Skywalker: How old are you?”

“Uh—I haven’t decided yet,” Anakin said, thrown by the question.

“Smart boy,” Master Adi replied, and the door cracked open.

“Interesting security vetting technique,” Obi-Wan said to her as they walked inside.

“But accurate, isn’t it?” Master Adi was smiling.

Obi-Wan sat down with a grimace on a backless chair. “There are five Blood Carver assassins accounted for, Mace. Judicial got one of the final three, and the other two are, unfortunately, deceased.”

Mace nodded. “Understood. Judicial is sweeping the dome with help from the Temple security squads. We should hear the all-clear soon enough.”

Valorum was half-sitting, half-leaning against the edge of his desk, a pensive expression on his face. Mas Amedda was seated in the Chancellor’s chair, his arm already treated and wrapped. Tuuvino was pacing the room, which made Anakin want to twitch with the desire to join him.

Instead, Anakin went to his Master. “Let me see your back.”

Obi-Wan glanced at him. “What for?”

“Because you said one of them punched you. Abella will assault me if I don’t make sure nothing’s wrong,” Anakin said. “Right side?”

Obi-Wan gave in and loosened his belt and the sash underneath. The rust-colored tabards were a complete loss; the back left side was all scratched up, too. “I think that scar is a target.”

Anakin snickered. “Yeah, probably. But I bet the target was already there when you got stabbed.”

“Then it was well-placed,” Obi-Wan tried to retort, but then Anakin put his hands on surprisingly wet tunic, and Obi-Wan hissed, instead. “Not a punch?”

Anakin raised both eyebrows as red stained his fingers. Without giving his Master a chance to realize his intent, he grabbed ahold of the protrusion in his Master’s back and yanked it free.

“ _Sithfuck!_ ” Obi-Wan yelped, trying to curl inwards and get away from Anakin at the same time. “What the fuck was that?”

“Aw, hold still, you big baby,” Anakin instructed, putting one hand on the wound. He leaned forward to give his Master the object in question with his free hand. “You’re right, you _were_ punched. With a claw.”

“Oh. Well. Nerve damage comes in handy, then.” Obi-Wan held the claw up by its broken end, revealing almost ten centimeters of sharp, gory length for everyone to see. Master Adi gave him a bemused look; Mas Amedda turned a funny shade of blue-green that didn’t bode well for the room’s carpeting.

“By the Force, Obi-Wan.” Valorum looked grave. “I want no one’s blood on my hands. You’ve got to stop trying to shed all of yours on my behalf.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Believe me, Chancellor, I’m trying not to.”

Anakin used the Force to staunch the fresh flow of blood, but the wound wasn’t all that bad. The organs that would have been damaged from a good stabbing weren’t actually present, so it was just messy.

Master Adi handed him a self-sealing bandage, but otherwise let him take care of everything himself. Anakin placed the bandage over the gouge, ran his fingertips around the edges to make sure it set, and then pulled his Master’s tunics back down to cover everything. Not Anakin’s best work, but it would hold until the healers got ahold of Obi-Wan.

“Now you’ve got another argument for Abella on reasons not to get replacement parts.”

Obi-Wan breathed out a laugh. “I don’t think she’ll agree with me.”

Anakin looked up and realized he was being stared at. “What?” he asked, sort of worried by the frank appraisal on Master Mace’s face.

“It’s all right, Ani,” Obi-Wan said in a low voice. “They’re just not used to seeing you act like yourself.”

“Oh,” he said, and tried not to duck his head in embarrassment. He hadn’t been aware that there was any difference in his actions, especially at the moment.

 _When there is need for you to be a Jedi, you act like one,_ Obi-Wan told him. _There is no shame in that, Padawan._

Mace glanced at Obi-Wan. “Sixteen?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “At the latest.”

After a moment’s puzzling out their meaning, Anakin caught on. “Hey!” he protested. “Can we actually, you know, get to my Knighting before we start planning the ceremony?”

“Smart kiddo,” Siri said, but mentioning his Knighting seemed to be making her nervous. Oh, wait, yeah; Reeft and Garen had said she was up for her Trials. Anakin smiled at her in reassurance. Siri Tachi was going to be a Knight, no problem. So was he, but there was no need to plan it out five years in advance.

“I just don’t understand what they were hoping to accomplish,” Valorum said, calling everyone’s attention back to the matter at hand. “Any sensible assailant would wait until after the Jedi were gone before making an attempt on my life.”

“The timing does seem peculiar,” Master Mace agreed.

“Assassinating you was not their goal,” Obi-Wan said, all hint of amusement gone from his face as Anakin sat down next to him. “Today’s shooting was meant to send a message.”

“A message? What sort of message?” Amedda barked.

Adi frowned. “The sort that says, ‘We can kill you any time we like.’”

“They’re trying to make people afraid,” Siri said.

“Or trying to scare the pants off of the Supreme Chancellor,” Tuuvino suggested, and blushed when Valorum looked his way.

“Thank goodness; today I did not wear pants at all,” Valorum murmured, which made Tuuvino grin.

“We know that Palpatine still has allies in the Senate, ones we didn’t find,” Obi-Wan said. “Like you, Vice Chair.”

“What?” Amedda looked furious. “How dare you imply that I had something to do with this!”

“I don’t recall saying those words, nor do I think you had anything to do with today’s attack,” Obi-Wan said in a neutral voice. “You would have ducked, for starters.”

Amedda _hmphed_. “Then state what you mean, and quickly. My patience is thin, even for heroes of state.”

“You were allied with the Trade Federation,” Obi-Wan began to say, but was interrupted.

“Everyone knows that,” Amedda snapped. “I almost lost my position because of their foolishness.”

“The Trade Federation had direct ties to Sidious, Palpatine of Naboo,” Obi-Wan went on, as if the Vice Chair wasn’t glaring daggers at him. “But you didn’t know about their connection to the Sith, and that’s rather my point.”

Anakin blinked a few times, trying to follow that leap of logic, but Master Adi got there first. “I see,” she said. “There could be further unwitting allies of the Sith out there, tied to his purposes through ventures we do not yet know about.”

Valorum frowned. “So it may be that whoever was behind today’s attack believes that they act with their own goals in mind, but in truth, it was yet another assault by the Sith.”

“And we’re right back around to the purpose of today’s attempt,” Obi-Wan said. “Sidious is telling us that he’s still watching.”

Anakin shivered; he couldn’t help it. “What do we do, then? If we leave a Jedi with the Chancellor all the time, it looks like we’re too interested in government affairs. If we leave the Chancellor undefended, there could be a successful assassination. If he uses the pod’s ray shields during every session of congress, it looks like he’s afraid.”

“A very accurate assessment,” Valorum said. “You have a wise political mindset, Padawan Skywalker.”

“Yeah, well,” Anakin said, glancing away. He didn’t quite know how to explain that he used to live and breathe this kind of intrigue. “If I really knew my stuff, I’d be able to think of an alternative.”

“Then let’s resort to subterfuge,” Siri said. “We can’t be blatant about having Jedi around, but under those big, blue, armored uniforms, who could tell?”

“Ah,” Master Mace said, starting to smile. “The Chancellor’s Guard should tighten security in light of this assassination attempt. They will need more staff on-hand.”

“Vice Chair?” Master Adi looked at Amedda.

Amedda was frowning. “I do not believe there are any rules against such a thing. The regulations for the Chancellor’s guard concern themselves with defense training and a lack of a criminal background, not with whether or not you are a Jedi.”

“I must admit, I thought I would hear more of a protest from you, Mas Amedda,” Valorum said.

Amedda scowled. “I was just shot, Chancellor. I am a politician, not a soldier. I have no wish to die in office.”

The all-clear was received fifteen minutes later. By that time, Mace, Obi-Wan, and Adi Gallia had already talked with Jude Rozess’s people to create a team of Jedi to become temporary members of the Chancellor’s guard.

“Or maybe it’s not temporary,” Rozess said via Mace’s comm. “Maybe we should consider them a permanent addition until we’re certain that Sidious and his allies are apprehended.”

“That might take a while,” Anakin said, exchanging a look with Obi-Wan.

“Then we’ll keep them on rotation. I don’t want anyone getting used to the duty, anyway. They’ll get careless,” Adi said, frowning. “We’ve got a lot of Knights on their five-year. That will be a good pool to draw candidates from.”

 _What’s a five-year?_ Anakin asked his Master.

Obi-Wan half-smiled at him. _Something you and I did not get. Traditionally, new Knights spend five years performing requested missions, visiting places of historical or personal meaning, or allowing themselves to be rotated through different assignment types. It’s meant to help you narrow down your strengths, before you do anything as taxing as accepting a permanent position, or taking a Padawan. Not everyone chooses to do so, especially of late; sometimes circumstances arise that preclude the possibility of completing a five-year._

 _I was an awesome arising circumstance,_ Anakin said, grinning at Obi-Wan.

 _That you were,_ Obi-Wan agreed, and reached out to rest his hand on Anakin’s shoulder.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Abella was _not_ pleased to see them. “You!” she pointed a furry finger at Obi-Wan. “What are you doing in here, already?”

Obi-Wan held up the blood claw, now sealed in a sterile bag. “Because, as my Padawan so adeptly put it, I was punched by this.”

The Chitanook Healer made a face. “Let me guess: Right through the scar?”

“Right through the scar,” Obi-Wan confirmed with a wry smile.

She grumbled something in a language Anakin didn’t understand. “All right, then. And you, Skywalker? Are you missing any pieces?”

Anakin grinned. “I have all my pieces, Bella.”

“Well, at least one of you is able to keep from bleeding every five minutes,” she muttered, and led the way through the Ward to a private room in the rear. Once the door was closed, she turned to them and said, “The entire Temple is already buzzing about how the hero of Naboo stopped an assassination today.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes heavenwards. “Force, you’d think I’d been there alone, and fended off an army for good measure.”

Abella snickered. “They should have just cropped Master Mace out of the news reports entirely, the way the media is blithering on. Come on, then, hop up here. Let’s see how much you’ve sliced yourself up.”

Obi-Wan shook his head and sat down on the exam bed, stripping off his belt and handing it to Anakin. “Can you check the leather for damage?”

Anakin nodded and settled to the floor with it, removing tools and supplies and Obi-Wan’s borrowed lightsaber, setting everything carefully to one side. He started at one end, inspecting the belt for claw marks or tears. There were times when a Jedi’s belt needed to be secure, to support the wearer’s weight and then some. Falling to your doom over a torn belt was a stupid way to die.

“Huh. Is this your handiwork, Anakin?” Abella asked him a few minutes later.

He glanced up; his Master had stripped to his waist already, and looked uncomfortable as the healer poked at his back. “Yeah. I yanked the claw, stopped the bleeding, and slapped a patch over it.”

“You did a bit more than that,” Abella murmured. Obi-Wan winced when she ripped the patch free. “I’m surprised you didn’t just heal this entirely on your own.”

“I’m not that great a healer,” Anakin said, resuming his inspection of the leather.

“Is that a belief, or a truth?”

Anakin checked a light spot, which turned out to be just a discoloration, not damage. “It’s not like I can’t heal at all. It’s more like I have this abundance of energy, and when I let it go, it heals big stuff, but not the fiddly detail bits.”

“Hmm. I know you have no intention of becoming a Healer, but you may wish to take a few of the healer-based courses, or perhaps put in some time in the Ward as an intern,” Abella told him. “If you had more knowledge of what you were doing, you wouldn’t have needed me at all today.”

“And you’d have saved me from her tender, furry mercies,” Obi-Wan said, and smiled when Abella smacked his shoulder.

“You could have healed this without me, too, Obi,” Abella said, and threw Obi-Wan’s undertunic at him.

Obi-Wan caught the shirt and pulled it over his head. “I could have, but not for anything which damages that particular spot. I’m more considerate of that scar tissue than you give me credit for.”

Abella smirked. “Good. It only took me the better part of a year to pound that lesson into your head. Go ahead and get dressed. I need to log today’s injury into your file. Come see me before you leave so I can yell at you some more about your replacement surgery.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan said, looking less than enthused.

“So, I guess they’ve cancelled the elbow-rubbing political after-party, right?” Anakin asked when Abella left.

Obi-Wan nodded. “I think everyone scattered to the winds the moment shots were fired. Don’t worry. We’ll be subjected to it in a few days’ time.”

“Who’s worried?” Anakin held up the belt. “Good as new. Well. Not new, but you get the idea.”

“Excellent.” Obi-Wan bundled up the ruined tabards and shoved them into the nearest recycler. “Those are a loss.”

Anakin had just finished putting everything back into place on the belt, and Obi-Wan had re-wrapped his sash, when there was a sudden flurry of running feet past their room. “What was _that?_ ”

“Someone critical coming in, I imagine,” Obi-Wan answered—and then he froze in place, before slowly turning his head in the direction everyone had run.

Anakin was about to ask what he’d sensed when he felt it, too. There was something cold, slimy— _wrong_ in that direction, accompanied by a great deal of agitation.

Obi-Wan bolted from the room like a shot. Anakin swore, grabbed both his Master’s belt and lightsaber, and followed.

The halls got more crowded as they went, and in no time Anakin had lost sight of Obi-Wan. Anakin swore and elbowed his way through gawking, curious patients, following that sense of wrongness.

He burst through the last group of onlookers (seriously, Jedi were the worst gawkers _ever_ ) just in time to see Obi-Wan stride up and slug a screaming, struggling man right in the jaw. The struck man slumped in the arms of the three healers who had been trying to hold him, and a senior healer wasted no time in grabbing a hypo and stabbing the man with it.

The healer who administered the hypo glared up at Obi-Wan. “That is not an approved patient restraining method, Knight Kenobi.”

His Master was unfazed. “In case you hadn’t noticed, our friend there was not listening to your attempts to calm him.”

“True,” the healer admitted, adding a second hypo injection to the first. The Jedi Obi-Wan had hit looked like seven shades of Sith hells, even unconscious. His hair was a clumping mess, there were dark circles under his eyes, and his lips were raw, like he’d been biting them non-stop.

“Don’t touch that!” Obi-Wan yelled at a Padawan Healer who was reaching to pick up something from the floor. The Padawan froze in place. “Or you’re going to wind up like Master Fareesi!”

Anakin, sensing the line of his Master’s thoughts, grabbed a cloth from a medical tray, and approached the other Padawan. On the floor at her feet was a pyramid-shaped object, dull and black, no bigger than a holographic display box. “Shit,” he whispered, and bent down to pick up the pyramid with the cloth, careful not to touch the surface.

The senior healer was staring at what Anakin held with wide eyes. “Gods. Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, his voice hard. “Someone call Master MonMassa and tell her to come down here immediately.”

“On it,” the female Padawan said, darting off for a comm.

“Fareesi’s been poisoned, Jan,” Obi-Wan told the senior healer. “Get this room clear.”

Jan drew in a deep breath and nodded. “Right, then. All right, you lot!” he shouted, glaring at the patients and milling witnesses, most of whom were way too interested in what Anakin was holding. “The show’s over! Go back to bed, or get the hell out of my Ward!”

As everyone shuffled off, Healer Terza appeared at Anakin’s side, holding an open sterile container. “That will need to be tested for biological contaminants, yes?”

Anakin nodded, grateful to slide the pyramid into the container and seal it up. “Yeah, though there might not be anything left,” he said in a low voice. “Sith poisons are tricky that way.”

Terza gave the container back to Anakin. It was much easier to hold, now, without feeling like he was going to slip any moment and touch the dark pyramid with his bare hands.

“Bella is contacting the Council and apprising them of the situation. I don’t think this little device should be removed from our sight,” she said.

“No, probably not,” Anakin agreed, watching as Obi-Wan gave quiet instructions to Senior Healer Jan. “Man, poor Master Fareesi. I wonder how he managed to snag this?”

Terza gave Fareesi a considering look, while Jan’s healers got the sedated Master onto a floating stretcher for transport. “I don’t know. I hope he’ll be able to tell us.”

Terza waited with Anakin, glaring at anyone who came too close to them, or who tried to peer too closely at the sterile container. Master Mace, Master Yoda, and Master Saesee arrived in the Ward after Fareesi had been installed in one of the private rooms. Boda MonMassa, the Master of Shadows, arrived practically on their heels, flushed and almost out of breath.

“Where is he?” she gasped, and when Terza pointed, the Master ran in that direction.

Mace put Yoda down on the ground, and all three Masters approached Anakin with careful steps and cautious faces. “Is that what I think it is?” Master Saesee asked.

“Yeah,” Anakin said, feeling unaccountably nervous. “Don’t get any ideas about touching it, okay?”

Mace knelt down in front of him, eying the container but making no move to take it from Anakin. “It’s a perfect match for one of the fakes in the Archives,” he said. “Force. An actual Sith Holocron.”

“It needs to be bio-scanned,” Anakin told him. “There _might_ be remnants of the poison that got Master Fareesi on it, which would make it easier to help him.” Or it could be as he’d already told his primary healer—the pyramid could be chemically spotless.

“I can do it,” Master Saesee said, looking grave. “I can take it to my lab—”

“No!” Anakin shouted, and then bit his lip. “No, I mean—yes, take it to be analyzed, but don’t do it by yourself. These things are tricky.”

Master Yoda made a humming noise. “Yet alone with them, your Master was,” he said.

“I think that was exactly Anakin’s point, Master,” Obi-Wan said as he joined them. Anakin thought he looked worn out; no surprise, considering what kind of day _this_ had turned out to be.

“And a good point, it was,” Master Yoda said, nodding. “Master Fareesi, how is he?”

“Not good at all,” Obi-Wan said, rubbing the knuckles of his right hand with his left thumb. “Forgive my wording, but this is one of the more insidious of the Sith poisons. The fact that he made it back to the Temple, that he retained enough sense to come to the healers—that is the only thing that bodes well for Fareesi.”

“Damn,” Mace said, and sighed. “That is not the kind of report I was hoping MonMassa’s Third would bring back to us.”

“No, there is a positive side to this,” Obi-Wan insisted, to their surprise. “Mace, Fareesi must have had some sort of encounter with Palpatine. That’s Darth Zannah’s Holocron. Sidious would have kept it close.”

Anakin stared down at what he held in shock. Zannah had been the one that had tried to help Obi-Wan—well, she’d been helpful by Sith standards, anyway. She was beautiful, and cold, and the trickiest of them all, if his Master’s memories and the old tales were anything to go by.

He found himself wondering if Vader had ever talked to her, and tried not to shudder. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“An unexpected achievement, this is,” Master Yoda murmured. “Explains, it does, today’s events in the Senate Dome.”

“Losing a holocron would certainly have inspired Sidious to respond,” Obi-Wan agreed. “If Fareesi’s exploits have goaded Sidious into action, that assassination attempt may not be the least of his efforts.”

“Will Master Fareesi recover?” Master Mace asked.

Obi-Wan hesitated. “Maybe. It depends on how much of the poison he absorbed, and how well he responds to treatment. I’ve already told Jan to put him on a blood cleanser, but that may not be effective. Once the poison enters the body, it bonds with the system, making it that much harder to remove.”

Healer Terza looked concerned. “What did this toxin _do_ to Fareesi, exactly? I only witnessed Fareesi’s retrieval, not what came before it.”

“It made him fucking nuts,” Master MonMassa answered, joining them. The elder woman suddenly looked as worn as Obi-Wan. “Sorry, Padawan Skywalker.”

Anakin shrugged. “I’ve heard worse, Master. I don’t really have tender ears anymore.”

She nodded. “Fair enough. Masters, Fareesi will need to be placed under guard. He is not lucid in the slightest, and he’s fighting off Jan’s attempts to keep him sedated.”

“Understood, Boda,” Mace said, and then he bowed his head. “I am very sorry.”

Master MonMassa waved off the sentiment. “He’s still alive, Mace. I will take hope in that.”

“You were right,” Obi-Wan said, gazing at MonMassa with a strange expression on his face. “Your people aren’t ready for this at all.”

“I did not want to see that point proven,” she responded. “I may want to increase my class size.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I will do what I can.”

 _What in the Force are you being all cryptic about?_ Anakin wanted to know.

_She’s asked me to train her Shadows to properly hunt Sith. I’m meant to terrorize them, the better for them to understand what they’ll face._

Anakin glanced in the direction of Fareesi’s room. _Good._

“So, what shall we do with that?” MonMassa was asking, meaning the holocron.

“After testing it, it will need to be studied, as much as I’d rather just melt it down,” Master Mace said, looking grim.

Anakin felt the brief flare of inspiration from his Master. “What?”

Obi-Wan looked startled, then thoughtful. “I have an idea. Master MonMassa, do you have any new Shadows in your cadre? Someone who has not yet received any training in your line of work?”

Master MonMassa nodded. “Yes, actually. Padawan Tachi.”

Obi-Wan turned to give her an incredulous look. “You’ve asked Siri?”

 _Force,_ Anakin thought in dismay. No wonder Siri was so antsy about her impending Trials.

“Yes. Is that a problem?” MonMassa asked.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No…no, not at all. In fact, it explains a lot about Siri’s behavior—ah, before.”

Anakin agreed with him. Siri had acted downright _weird_ sometimes, a habit that her Padawan, Ferus Olin, had mimicked. At the time, it had driven Anakin crazy, frustrated him to no end…and it made Anakin wonder if Ferus had really quit the Order, after all.

“She’s about to take the Shadow’s Trials, but she only recently accepted my offer. Nothing has proceeded yet,” MonMassa explained. “Why?”

“Well, we have the copy, the fake Zannah holocron,” Obi-Wan said. “If you put the fake and the real holocron side by side, I would immediately know which holocron is the true one. I’d like to see what it takes for a Jedi to learn to tell the difference without being told.”

MonMassa’s eyebrows flew up. “That’s devious. Mace, I’m adopting Kenobi. He’s mine, now.”

“You can’t have him, Boda,” Mace said in a dry voice. “I’ve already claimed him for my own nefarious purposes.”

“I’m starting to feel like I should flee to the Outer Rim and hide from you both,” Obi-Wan said, which caused Master Saesee to emit a dry chuckle.

 

*          *          *          *

 

Master Saesee, Master Yoda, and Healer Jan took control of the Sith holocron, to Anakin’s relief. There was no doubt he’d see the stupid thing again, but in the meantime, the lab analysis had to be done.

Master Mace followed them home, which made Anakin suspicious that there was yet _more_ crap waiting in the wings of this weird day, but Obi-Wan didn’t seem bothered. Anakin let that calm soothe his nerves, and thus was more or less unsurprised to see that Master Adi and Garen were waiting outside their quarters, too.

“Well, how did you like your Senate Confirmation?” Garen asked, a huge, cheerful grin on his face.

“I want to find a miserable, dingy, hole-in-the-wall bar, and imbibe something potentially lethal,” Obi-Wan all but growled at him.

Master Adi smiled. “Mm. That’s how I felt after my Confirmation, too.”

“And no one shot at anyone, that day,” Mace said, giving the other Councilor a faint smile.

Anakin glanced back and forth between them and thought that his mother was right. Those two really needed to figure out that whole relationship bit and get it over with.

“If you are going to find a bar, I’m joining you. I haven’t done anything disreputable in months, and my sister needs new gossip to feed to my parents,” Master Adi said.

“You should go with them, Master Mace,” Garen suggested.

“I don’t think so,” Mace started to say, but Garen was already shaking his head.

“I know for a fact that the last time you took time off, you were at a wedding. Master Micah says that unless someone herds you into it, you only remember to take time for yourself once a year, like it’s an anniversary. Since he’s busy with baby things, I have been elected to make sure you do fun crap and not be a complete stodge,” Garen said, looking…surprisingly serious.

Master Mace seemed to be torn between protesting and hunting down Master Micah, baby things or not.

Master Adi grinned at Mace. “Garen’s right. Come with us, Mace!”

“There’s no way I’m getting out of this, am I?” Mace asked, resigned.

“No,” Obi-Wan retorted. _“Bar.”_

“What about you, kiddo?” Garen asked Anakin, with a smile and a wink. “You want to go play designated sober Padawan for the adults?”

Anakin snorted. “No way. I’ll stay here and do fun things. Master Obi-Wan can go be a lush all he wants.”

“What _does_ that word mean, anyway?” Obi-Wan asked, puzzled.

“It means you’re a lavish, habitual drunk,” Master Adi told him.

“Oh.” Obi-Wan frowned in realization. “I am _not._ I can’t afford to be!”

Anakin waved them off, and then spent a few hours with Garen for company. That was fun, because it meant they could talk pilot at each other, uninterrupted. Garen already had great stories from his first year of being a Jedi Knight.

Anakin showed him the mouse droid plans. Garen snickered at the idea of the little housekeeping droids becoming an advanced security system, but did admit that it was a brilliant bit of deception.

“Yeah, as long as nobody knows about it,” Anakin agreed. “Once the secret gets out, people might start to watch out for mouse droids.”

Garen shook his head. “Nah. _We_ might stay on the lookout for mouse droids, but to most people, they’re background bots. They’re so damn common that most folk won’t look at them twice, even if everyone knows that they could also be a secondary security system.”

Anakin worked on his blueprints for the tech conference for a while, and then went to shower off assassinations and crazy Jedi and Healers’ Ward funk. By the time he finished cleaning up and left the ’fresher, Obi-Wan was home, sprawled out on the couch and looking seriously inebriated.

“Did you have fun?” Anakin asked, plopping down onto the couch next to his Master.

Obi-Wan blinked a few times, considering the question with all of the reflection of a drug-addled spacer. “Yes, I think so. The bar folk had seen today’s news feeds. Free drinks. Unending free drinks. I can’t feel my face, Ani.”

Anakin snickered. “You should probably go to bed, then, and sober up.”

“Bed? No,” Obi-Wan said, shaking his head. “Can’t sleep in that bed alone right now. I’m staying here.”

“Okay, then.” Anakin got up, retrieving a quilt from his bedroom. By the time he made it back to the couch, Obi-Wan had claimed the full length of it, and was already asleep.

He smiled and spread the quilt over his Master’s sleeping form. “Happy Birthday, Master.”


End file.
